Ingrid's foul mouth

"Shit ass fuck shit! Piss också!" Ingrid let off a stream of curses as she untangled herself from the straps that kept her hanging from the upended wall of the chinook. "What fucking skitstövel shoots down a fucking chopper when there is zeds everywhere! Förbannat!" Finally she cut herself loose and tumbled from her seat, falling hard onto her shoulder. "Ai! Faan!"

She glanced around at the utter chaos as she patted herself for wounds. She seemed to be alright, though heavily bruised, and the shoulder she'd just landed on felt sprained. She got to her feet... and cried out as she put weight on her left foot. "Ai my fucking Gott," she moaned. "I am getting too fucking old for this shit," she said as she quickly pulled the straps of her boot as tight as they would go. She began rummaging through the cargo that was strewn all over the place. "If I can get some cover, I can take out the technical of those aphjärnor!" she called out as she searched for her mortar.

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